


Half a Hundred Times

by Sookiestark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackfyre Rebellion, Dark Sister - Freeform, Domestic Violence, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Ravens, Visions, Warging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-11-08 17:13:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: A series of one-shots about Brynden Rivers and his life.





	1. Chapter 1

Aunt Daena comes to the nursery, even after Daemon no longer is there. She comes for Brynden and Daenerys to teach them to use a bow and ride. Sometimes, she will take Jon and Jeyne, but usually it just the three of them. Later, when he thinks on it, he will believe it was a decade locked in the Maidenvault with her sisters and all the minor slights and hurts that kept her distant from her sister’s children.   
As a boy, Daena was his favorite relative. She was strong and stubborn, quick to act, quick to laugh, quick with energy. She could never keep still. All in black, she would come bounding in the nursery, jumping on their beds and waking them up with tickles and play fighting. “Wake up Dragons. Today we must go and see what the Seven Kingdoms has for us.”

She would eat candy and cakes she brought from the kitchens, while they dressed. The nurses and Septa would tell her the children shouldn’t eat sweets or that they needed to say their prayers. Daena would laugh, a lovely sound, “My brother husband said prayers enough for all of us. 

They would practice archery in the Dragonpit or ride horses through the Red Keep. Daenerys would beg for stories of the names of all the dragons that lived here. Aunt Daena would tell them, each one of the names. She would kiss them both and tell them how special they were. “We are dragons. My brother, Daeron, didn’t need dragons to rule because they are inside us. The magic of Old Valyria is in our blood. Remember, we are the dragons.” 

 

Some of his best memories are of his Aunt clapping him on the back, after practicing “Good job, my little raven.”

She is the one who says his birthmark looks like a raven, a blood raven. She speaks the words and the dreams start. He was seven when the dreams start.


	2. Chapter 2

210 A.C

Shiera is lying pale and still in her bed. She looks small and is very still. The Grand Maester is there, as is the midwife. 

Ignoring the Grand Maester, Brynden Rivers looks at the midwife, “How is she?”  
The Maester answers before the midwife. “She will be fine. She lost some blood but she should be fine. I gave her something for the pain. 

“The baby?”

“He was born too soon, my lord. There were some irregularities. I do not know if he would have survived.”

“Where is my son?”

The midwife brings the black velvet blanket that someone had gifted to them. The woman hands him the blanket gently, as if the babe still lived. 

He unwraps the blanket. There is a silver haired baby with skin so translucent, the purple veins beneath seemed like the vine decoration in the Great Hall . His son’s fists are curled like he is sleeping. His tiny eyelids shut, as if he rested. Brynden wonders what color are the baby’s eyes, but the child looks so peaceful he would not disturb him. As he had dreamed, the boy had silver dragon wings, edged with purple, and a tail. 

Brynden says a silent prayer to the old gods, thanking them for sending the child early. If he had come full term, the wings would have never passed through and the babe would have killed his mother. They could try to have another child, but he couldn’t live without Shiera. 

Wrapping the dead child in the blanket, he carefully places him in the cradle beside the bed.

As if sensing him, Shiera wakes and reaches for him. 

He speaks, taking her delicate hand, “The boy came too soon.”  
“I know… I lost our child,” she says.

“We will make another,” he whispers and kisses her forehead.

“It was a boy, beautiful. He had wings like a dragon and a tail. All silver and purple. So beautiful.”  
She is crying. She never seemed like she had wanted the child and now he is gone, she is heartsick. 

He pulls her closer and climbs next to her, so he can hold her. 

“We will make another, even more beautiful.”


	3. Chapter 3

200 AC

“Tell me a story,” Shiera says. 

“Hmmmm…” he says, as he stretches, in the darkness. They are in bed and she is propped on the pillows beside him. She is relaxed like a cat, content and slightly playful.

“Alright, he says, “but you have heard this before.”

“Those are my favorite stories,” she purrs.   
So the story goes.. When I was four, Dareon, Prince of Dragonstone decided to take some of his sons, Baelor and Aerys, and a cousin, Daemon Waters, and me on a ride through the Kingswood. Now, Daemon would have been 9 and it would still be a few years before all would know he was Daeron’s brother, as well as his cousin, but everyone knew who I was. Daeron was always very kind to my mother and her children. Since she left me at court, as a reminder to my father, even though she took my sisters when Bethany Bracken took my mother’s spot in the King’s bed. A reminder that House Blackwood was loyal and loved the KIng. 

As you can imagine, leaving a four year old can be very dangerous in King’s Landing, especially when our father was King. But Queen Naerys had promised my mother that she would make sure that my nurse was her creature. In fact, more often than not I was found in the company of the Queen. She tried to teach me the Faith and all the prayers. 

At this, Shiera laughs. “I think the Queen had a fool’s folly teaching Bloodraven to pray.”

He looks at her smiling, but sad, “Queen Naerys was a kind woman, too kind and if the Faith didn't take to me, it was not the Lady’s fault. She was no fool.”

He takes her hand and kisses it. “However, if I had been a septon we wouldn't be here..”

“We might....”  
“A septon? Surely, that would not interest you sister.”

She smiles wickedly and he kisses her. If we keep talking, I will have to stop my story.” 

“No, please. I love this story.”

 

The Royal Party was to spend a few days in the Kingswood. Even though Aerys was older, he tired quickly and was sent in the wheelhouse with some books. I remember Baelor and Daemon teasing him as he left. Even though I was only four, I remember how much I longed to prove myself to them, to be a true warrior of House Targaryen, a true son of the Dragons. I remember promising myself that I would ride on my pony until the older boys grew tired. I would not be the next boy sent to the wheelhouse. I would persevere. 

The sun was hot. Up until then, I had been mostly in the Red Keep. I remember the blisters that formed and how bright my skin got, but I would not cry. I would not be called a baby. I would not be relegated to a wheelhouse. 

Around mid morning, the sun had started to turn my skin red. By noon, my exposed skin had a serious burn. They say my skin blistered and started to fall off. Blood started seeping from the cuts. Baelor saw it and told his father. As I fell from my pony, in a fever brought on from the burn.   
Prince Daeron brought me to the tent, where I passed out, feverish and bloody. Aemon the Dragonknight carried me to the Prince’s own tent. They say that Aemon was afraid to touch me because the skin was falling from my body. The Grand Maester was sent out to the Kingswood to wrap my burns and I was brought home in a wheelhouse. 

A fever set in and Melissa Blackwood was summoned to King’s Landing because her son by the King was certain to die. 

Anyway, as I lay in bed, near death and covered in bloody burns, I have been told Daemon came as often as he could. He read me stories and talked to me of children’s gossip, of the family, of his dreams, of his horse. I woke to his face and then my mothers. 

Our father never came. He never thought about me for the months I lay in that bed. He was too busy with mistresses, feasts, whores, and the sniveling lords who sought his favor. 

My mother stayed for almost a year, until you were born, helping me recover. During that time, she and your mother got close. They became good friends and my mother swore she would help Serenei when her birthing time came. 

The Queen came often. She prayed for me, as I am sure she would now. She brought the softest black robe I had ever felt. It was a deep grey, almost black and specially made in Myr, so that it allowed no light in. She had it made special for me. She was so beautiful. My mother told her it was too kind, too fine, too special. Naerys smiled, so beautiful and so sad, and took my mother’s hand. “He is the son of the King and my children’s brother. Targaryens have always been special. Use it with my love and care.” 

When your mother died in the birthing bed, my mother got a special audience with the King and permission to take you to Raventree Hall, until you were a bit older and could survive King’s Landing. He granted it. I don’t know what she said or did to persuade him. I never asked and she never spoke of it to me. 

Queen Naerys and I stood, in front of Maegor’s Holdfast. She, in her shawl and head covering, and I, my special black robe, like a septon and a septa , albeit a small one. She told me it was okay to cry and she would not tell anyone. She told me of how her mother left her when she was young and she would cry for her. Aemon the Dragonknight and Daemon stood with us watching my mother go away with you. Daemon always was there when I needed him.

“I loved Daemon the best of all my brothers. He was the right arm, and I, the left.” 

She pulls him close, “I know, my love. I know.”


	4. Chapter 4

191 AC

 

Brynden is sixteen and the Great Hall in the Red Keep is decorated all in red and black banners. So many people are in the Great Hall that Kingsguard have taken steps to make sure no one is trampled. It is a good sign, a sign of the strength of House Targaryen, a sign of his strength.

This morning, his elder brother, King Daeron II had met with him, in his solar to talk to him about the ceremony and spectacle that would take place in the afternoon. Daeron, with his soft and calm voice and his gentle eyes. Daeron, who has always been more fatherly than a brother to him, speaks to him of what this means, not just to him, or House Blackwood, but to the whole kingdom. “It is always for the greater good. All our actions, however small or big, however good or bad, affect the whole realm. We must remember this. It is our duty to the people of Westeros.”

Like a reflex, Brynden seeks approval and nods with eager understanding and intensity, trying to etch these moments in his memory. Daeron has always been older, wiser, smarter, better, true born. Half of Daeron’s sons are older than him. No wonder he is more father to him than brother. He has more memories of Daeron than of his father in his entire childhood. 

“I give this sword to you to use increase the honor and might of House Targaryen. Remember that. You may have earned it on your own skill and bravery but you use it for House Targaryen, like my uncle Aemon, the Dragon Knight, like Visenya, sister-wife to the Conquerer.” 

Today, he will be gifted Dark Sister, the Valyrian sword, by King Daeron II. His brother, King Daeron could have chosen Baelor Breakspear but he chose him. His brother Aegor is angry and his face is a storm, jealousy and anger.. 

His aunts Daena and Elaena had much to do with this, but Brynden understands that Daeron is his own man and will not be swayed by his aunts. Only his mother, Naerys and Uncle Aemon had any sway over Daeron and they are both dead. This will show the entire Seven Kingdoms how important he is to King Daeron the Good. A symbol of his commitment and strength to House Targaryen. Let Daemon have Blackfyre, given to him by their father, drunken, lecherous lout. Daeron is giving him the sword that his Uncle Aemon held, the man who taught Daeron everything about how to be a good man and a good ruler. It means more, so much more... 

Last night, he drank with Daemon. They drank pear brandy from Tyrosh until Brynden’s face felt numb. Daemon told him last night that it makes good sense. He said to him, as they looked over King’s Landing “I will be the right arm of House Targaryen and you, little brother, will the be the left.” 

Brynden kneels at the foot of the Iron Throne and King Daeron hands him the sword. He speaks some words, but all Brynden can feel is the weight of the sword. He knows it is lighter than Blackfyre. Aegor laughed at him and said he was getting a woman’s weapon.

While they drank brandy, Daemon leaned in, “Aegor is jealous is all, all bitterness and steel. Bittersteel.” They laughed. “Dark sister is lighter than Blackfyre, but it is built for speed and grace. It is quick and light, full of surprises. It suits you brother.” 

Brynden was warm with pride and wine, full of compliments and love. He wasn’t ugly or deformed. It wasn’t about his ability to know things or the fact his skin would burn and bleed in the sun. 

He was a pillar in the history of House Targaryen, chosen as the best. 

He strides down the stairs, sword in hand to the cheers of the Great Hall. Normally, people shy away from him, but not today Today, the people cheer. His brother Daeron waves at the people, proud and happy. 

Brynden walks down the stairs and people are calling “House Targaryen!” Daemon meets him halfway down the stairs because he has been taking two or three at a time and raises his brother’s arm in the air. The crowd goes wild. All the people love Daemon. Daemon is smiling. There is no artifice for the crowd. It is brotherly love. 

Last night, he said, “We were both born bastards. It might be a little easier for me, but men still despise us and think we are less than they are.” 

“Not for long, Daemon. We will show them how we are no less than they are.” Brynden had slurred out, eager to show the world that he was worthy. 

“Not for long, little brother. “

They walk together, arms raised into the crowd. Black and red dragon banners everywhere. Everyone is cheering, cheering for him. His mother comes to him and he hugs her, as she kisses him crying with joy. His sisters. His nephews. His nieces. His aunts. 

Shiera is there. She smells of fruit and sandalwood. He twirls her around and she laughs. He realizes that if he never holds another woman, he would be fine. She is all he needs, forever. It is a sudden realization and he is taken completely off guard. But he is riding waves of joy and happiness. Nothing can go wrong. He can do anything today.

He looks at her and he brushes the silver hair from her face. 

He leans into her and kisses her. The first time he ever kisses her in front of another living soul. In front of their whole family and the entire court. He doesn’t even know, if they know he loves her. He suspects some of them do. 

“I love you,” he says.

She smiles, “I love you, Brynden Rivers.” 

He leans in to kiss her again, “Marry me Shiera. I will love only you until I die.”

It is more teasing than truth, a gentle game to see if she wants him as much.

She smiles and kisses him gently, “I know you will, Brynden, but I won’t marry you.”

He laughs and kisses her again. Today is the best day of his life


	5. Chapter 5

193 AC

He wakes in the night to Shiera climbing in his bed. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he asks her, “Shiera, what are you doing?”

Perhaps, she has had nightmares. She has been reading and talking to the wizards that Aerys has assembled around him, as well as the other half dozen wizards, priests, and purveyor of the dark arts from Asshai and around Essos. The second son of the King loves magic and prophecies and has started gathering a circle of wise men and women from across the Narrow Sea. Aerys and Shiera spent a great deal of time with these figures. She seeks to gain power through magic. Aerys seeks to fulfill the destiny of House Targaryen and speaks of prophecies. Perhaps, he has the Targaryen madness. 

Sometimes, she has nightmares. When she does, she seeks him out like she was still a girl  
They have always been close. Once, he was in love with her but she spurned him too many times. He has given up on her games. She flirts with half a dozen men in court. One of her suitors is their brother Aegor Rivers.

Aegor is everything he is not. He is thick and tall and strong. He is dark haired and quick to anger, quick to action. Bryden is thin and slight. He is pale and silver haired, red eyed and quiet. Brynden listens and thinks. He gathers information and then he acts. 

He moves over so she can rest. Shiera puts an arm around him. She smells of wine and that rich perfume she wears.

“I love you, Brynden Rivers. Take me.”  
“I cannot. Your husband will wonder where your maidenhead is.”

“I will have no husband.”  
“That is not your decision .. That is for the King to decide.”

He rolls over to look at her. She is all smiles. He looks down between them and realizes she is naked.  
She kisses him. He is eighteen and she is so soft and beautiful. He traces her body with his fingers, as she bites her bottom lip. 

“I love you, Shiera.” He says to her. How many times has he said it? “Marry me and I will take your maidenhead.”  
She pushes him down, Her thighs tight around his hips, rocking seductively. “Take it and I will see if I want to marry you.”  
She is rolling her hips and he feels his breath hitch, as she grinds against him. She whispers into his ear as she licks it, “I need to see how good you can make me feel. Then I will consider it.” 

She is running her fingers against his cock and it is too much. She kisses him gently, pushing her tongue against his lips. 

“Where did you learn this?” He puts his hand over hers, as she is moving her hand against his length. Once the words are out, he wants to take them back. He doesn’t want to know who taught her these things. 

She kisses him hard and laughs but does not answer his question.  
Sheira is teasing him..”I will have to find Aegor. He said he would help me rid myself of it.”  
He pushes her down on the mattress suddenly, with force. Her legs pull him tighter in against her. “Aegor,” he kisses her. “You shouldn't say such things .. not if you want me excited.” 

She laughs stroking him faster and guiding him to her, “I don't think that is a problem for you Brynden.” 

He does it because he believes she will find Aegor to help her. He is deliberate and gentle, slow and she cries out from his touch and twists against him, tight like his bowstring. She is his heart and he would give her all he had, so he gives her this and tries to make it sweet.

Afterwards, she lays in his arm, nuzzling against his neck. He is stroking her back because he loves the softness of her skin. As he feels sleep push him down, he kisses the top of her head. “Was I good enough?”

“Yes. It was perfect. I knew it would be perfect with you. Sweet Brynden. We are built to fit together. Our blood and magic calls to each other and pulls us together.”

He weighs her words and thinks of the truth in them. He speaks, as he kisses her nose, “Marry me and I will be yours to pleasure you all my days and nights.”

She laughs and gives him no answer. In the dawn, she leaves.


	6. Chapter 6

194 AC

Brynden has tried to forget about Shiera. He has slept with other women. He has drank too much. He has practiced more with a sword and a bow. He has read more, learned more, and started making himself useful to the King. It seems he has a head for politics. But she is always in his thoughts.  
A few months ago, he told her they must stop, if she would not marry him. Shiera did not believe him. She laughed and said he would still come when she called for him. He always had. No matter what, when Shiera wanted him, he would go back.  
The past few months have been different. He has kept his resolve and resisted her flirtations, her teasings, even when he found her naked in a tub in his room. He has resisted.

Tonight in his study, her handmaiden brought him a note, saying that she missed him and would like to make amends. So, he finds himself knocking on her chamber door in the middle of the night.

She opens the door, naked except for that necklace she has started wearing, silver with emeralds and sapphires. He walks in her room and Aegor is naked in her bed, sleeping. Brynden stops and thinks about walking out of her room, but it is Shiera and he has missed her. She smiles at him and walks across the room and gets a robe on … silver white. She glides across the room like a ghost and sits at the table with him. 

Brynden asks, gesturing to their brother in her bed. He had heard she had taken him as her lover, as well as at least five others. “Did you enjoy yourself?

“Oh yes, very much.”

“Well, I am glad. I didn't expect you to have company. It didn’t say anything in the note you sent me. If it was someone other than a brother, I would kill him.” 

She laughs, “Good thing he is your brother.”

She pours him some wine and her some wine and takes a drink.

Brynden says seriously. This was a game for her. “You should stop playing games with me.” 

“Probably, I should.” 

“Come back to my bed.”

“You know, I could go right now.. but you were the one who put restrictions on me.”

“If you are in my bed, you shouldn’t have to be in anyone else's.

“I don't like rules or restrictions.”

 

Aegor mumbled something from the bed. In her sweet voice, Shiera calls back, never breaking her gaze from Brynden. “Yes Aegor, I am coming.”

“Who are you talking to?” Aegor looks up from the pillow, trying to see from the dark canopy. 

“Brynden came to visit,” she replies.

“What the Seven Hells? Get out Brynden!”

“I was leaving, sweet brother.” He drains his glass in a mock toast toward Aegor. 

Shiera walks him to the door and whispers to him. “You should bend a little on your rules. I miss you. You are my dearest friend, brother. You help me sleep. Without you, I keep bad company.”

“I won't. You are either all mine or not at all. I won’t share you. Shiera. Not with him. Not with anyone.”

She frowned and rubbed his arm. “If that is what you demand of me, we will never be together and I will die of a broken heart.”

“I doubt that. You have plenty of company. King’s Landing is full of men.” 

“Shiera come back to bed and leave the ghost on the other side of the door.” Aegor shouts. 

When they get to the doorway, she hugs him. “Marry me?” he says. It sounds sad, like a plea. He hates himself for asking.

“Good night,” she says and shuts the door. He hears Aegor’s rumble and them laughing, as he walks to his room alone.


	7. Chapter 7

194 AC

She knocks on his door. “Let me in, Brynden. Let me in.”

She hears noises behind the door and she knocks more. 

He cracks the door open. His pants are untied and he holds them in his fist to keep them up  
He rubs his eyes. “What is it Shiera?”

“Let me in. There is a rumour you have taken a lover and it breaks my heart.” 

“Go back to Bittersteel or Hightower or whoever and stop playing games.”

He goes to shut the door.  
“Please,” she presses her body against the door. He uses his body to block the chamber, so she cannot see in. Her Brynden. Always chivalrous. Always secretive.  
But she glimpses the silver hair on the pillow.

He shuts the door


	8. Chapter 8

194 AC

Brynden goes to see the newest Penrose that his Aunt Elaena has given birth to. Shiera is there. Of course, she is. She wouldn’t miss the chance to come and be seen by him, though he wonders why she would think he would come. He has in his hand a huge bouquet of white and yellow lilies, Elaena’s favorite colors. 

His aunts, sisters, cousins, good sisters and all the woman related to him by blood and marriage greet him with kisses and hugs. It is not frequent that the men of the family will come to these garden brunches to celebrate another birth in House Targaryen. If they do, it is only for a few minutes before they pay their compliments and slink away. So, the women bombard him with flirtations and questions about his well-being and the well-being of Westeros. After all, he has recently been named Master of Whisperers. 

He smiles and flirts back, when they ask him when will he marry and add to the growing brood of House Targaryen. 

“What will you name her?” he asks his Aunt, who is in a silver dress, sitting gently at the table. He leans in to kiss her cheek and he smells her perfume that smells of fruit and spice. He hands her the flowers and she smiles at him and hands them to a servant to put in a vase. 

“Joy,” is what is his Aunt says.

He looks for the baby and finds her in the arms Maekar’s wife, Dyanna. Dyanna is a good woman, a kind mother, and for some reason, loves moody Maekar wholeheartedly. He asks if he can hold the child and she smiles, gently handing him the child. She shows him how to hold the head, as if he has never held a baby before. He lets her because she does it out of kindness. 

Joy looks nothing like her sisters that take after their father with their brown hair and blue eyes. They are sweet faced and lovely girls but this baby has silver hair, purple eyes, and the otherworldly quality Targaryens are known to have. 

Sheira watches the way Brynden holds the baby. Her aunts and sisters and good sisters are always having babies but she has never seen Brynden bring flowers. His sister Gwenys has a chair brought to him, so he can sit and look at the girl. Brynden sits for several minutes quietly holding the newborn. Occasionally, one of the women will ask him a question that he will answer without ever looking up. 

After five minutes, he hands the child back to his sister, Gwenys, kisses his Aunt again, and congratulates her another beautiful child. 

Elaena laughs, “It’s the last one for me. Even the Gods stopped at seven, so shall I. I am too old.”

“You are still beautiful, my lady. Lord Penrose is a lucky man.” he says laughing, but it is true. Elaena is as beautiful as ever. In fact, it seems that as she grows older, her beauty deepens.

He says his goodbyes and apologizes for leaving so soon. Quickly, he flees the way he came. By the time, he is almost to turn left down another corridor. Sheira catches up to him. He hadn’t heard her following him, but he is not surprised that she did. 

“So when did you start fucking our Aunt? I wouldn’t think she is your type..”

He stops her with his hand, “Hush.. sweet sister, you know not of what you speak. Are you mad or just jealous?”

Sheira is angry, so she continues, “So, you deny it. It wasn’t Elaena I saw all those months ago. The baby has a Targaryen look and long fingers like yours, She even has a birthmark on her belly like yours …”

He looks up and down the hallway, then he pulls her in an alcove. He pushes a latch and the wall moves. In a second, he has pushed her in the room and shut the secret door behind them. This must be one of the Master of Whispers rooms. There is a couch, books on shelves and a table with papers and scrolls all over it. 

“Sheira, you cannot say such things in public. Our Aunt’s husband, Lord Penrose, is the Master of Coin. What would the King say if he thought I was sleeping with our Aunt? Our Aunt, who would be higher in the line of succession than even him, if she had been born a man. Our Aunt, who everyone knows has the brains of Jaehaerys and the will of Daeron the Young Dragon, who if she was born a man, might have been Aegon the Conquerer come again. What might our King do? After all, our father legitimized all of us. What might he think of my loyalty? What might he do to the infant? Would she be safe?”

She stopped and looked at him. “Daeron would never hurt an infant.”

“No, but could you say that of everyone in our family..”  
She doesn’t speak again of the baby. “Do you still see her?”

“I will not dignify that with an answer. You are bedding several men and I am sure that Aegor thinks that you are only his. Has he asked you to marry him?”

“He has, but I tell him no.” 

She kisses him quietly. “I love you, Brynden.”  
“I think you should leave, Sheira.”  
She leaves silently and he continues on with his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. obviously, I have no canon information that Brynden and Elaena were sleeping together but I thought she might .. :)


	9. Chapter 9

195 A.C.

Bryden has always had the strangest dreams of ravens, always dreaming of black wings and raven eyes. However, in his dreams the ravens had three eyes, sometimes black, sometimes red. Once when he was six or seven, he went to Raventree to visit his mother. While he stayed there, he was fascinated by the huge weirwood tree and the hundreds of ravens that nested there every night. One night, his grandfather, Lord Blackwood found him in the branches. “Brynden, what are you doing in the branches? Come down before you kill yourself..”

“I am waiting for my brother ravens to come back and I will fly with them.” Brynden had said with a faraway stare. When Brynden had come down the tree branch, his grandfather had told him the story of House Blackwood by the fire in his study. He had told him that they were an ancient and great house, full of the blood of the First Men. Once, they even were Kings, first in the North, then here in the riverlands. Sometimes, the blood of the First Men would come out in an old and ancient magic, a connection to the earth and animals, visions and dreams, an ability to see loved ones long dead. Though his grandfather was proud his grandson had a touch of the First Men’s magic, he must keep quiet about it, especially in King’s Landing. Not all the lords understood or even had the blood of the First Men, Brynden must keep his gifts safe and secret for his safety.

For his thirteenth birthday, King Daeron had got him a trained raven for a pet. Aerys had been jealous because the Grand Maester had said the young raven was trained at the Citadel itself and knew all kinds of tricks. Bryden had named him Justman after the Riverland kings of old. He was a smart bird and would often keep Brynden company late into the night. Night was the one time that Brynden felt like he was a normal boy. He could run through the castle yard, explore the coastline, look in the gardens not having to worry about the sun and sunburn. 

When he was thirteen, he started having dreams that he was Justman, he could feel his feelings, think like him, fly in the sunlight. At first, he thought he was going crazy, like Rhaegal who sometimes pranced like a deer or a pony through the Red Keep. Once Rhaegal, ran naked through the courtyard saying he was on fire from dragon's flame. 

Brynden said nothing to no one about his raven dreams or the feeling he was staring through Justman’s eyes. It was better to keep silent then to have his family think he was soft minded like Rhaegal. 

When Brynden was about sixteen, Daeron allowed his bookish second son, Aerys to have two private tutors of any subject. Aerys could choose the tutors to teach him anything he wanted. Daeron was proud of his son being well-read and smart, as proud as he was of Baelor and Maekar being skilled warriors. Daeron was a good man, who knew it would take all kinds of strength to rule the realm, not just martial prowess.

Aerys was obsessed with magic and so of course, he picked one astronomer from Volantis and a wizard from Qohor, whose name was Leto. 

Aerys is obsessed with figuring out a way to make the dragons return. However, Aerys also has nightmares. His nightmares are of the entire world being overrun by the armies of dead and rotting men. At first, Aerys spent time reading books and scrolls, trying to prove to himself that it was a child’s nightmare, an impossible but terrifying fantasy of his imagination. However because of all his reading, Aerys read of a time in the Age of Legends, when the First Men joined with the Children of the Forest to beat back frozen armies of the dead.

Aerys tells no one, but Brynden about his dreams or what he read. Aerys feels comfortable with Brynden, in a way he doesn’t feel with his own brothers. He knows that Brynden is a man of learning as well and will not tease him. Brynden does not think Baelor would ever tease Aerys for reading instead of fighting, but he understands what it is like to feel misunderstood by your kin.   
Brynden starts to realize that there is something about the magic of Old Valyria in their blood that drives them to the visions and these nightmares. Brynden tells Aerys that he will help him. He will make sure the realm is safe and happy and Aerys can figure out how to make the dragons return and how to keep the dead from returning.. 

Sheira and Aerys can often be found together with a host of wizards, mages, maseters, and astronomers, in Aerys’ study and rooms. They are always together learning what they can. Brynden thinks they make a mismatched pair. Shiera is flirtatious, beautiful, funny and extroverted. Aerys is quiet, awkward, uncomfortable with too much noise or too many people, and often seen as an odd man. 

Aerys seems completely unfazed that his Aunt is the most beautiful woman in Westeros. He seems to be the only one who is not blinded by her beauty. In fact, even at twenty one, Aerys had never expressed interest in a woman or sex. All his other brothers are married but Aerys has expressed no desire. Brynden wonders if he prefers men, but he thinks Aerys would prefer to read. Sheira is often delighted by Aerys complete lack of knowledge of women or sex and tries to make him blush. 

One day, Brynden goes to Aerys’ study and work rooms which are deep in the Red Keep to speak with Aerys. Instead, he only finds Leto. Leto is in some meditation with only a black fire that burns blue in the fireplace. Brynden is curious with what he sees and would like to ask questions, but the man seems in a trance. As Brynden leaves, he hears Leto speak. He turns around and the man is looking toward him. 

“Your feathers are covered in blood, my friend.. Not your blood. Your blood is the red sap of weirwood trees. The blood of your kin covers you. I can teach you many things Brynden. One of them is how to change faces, change skins. A useful skill for a man who collects secrets.”

Brynden speaks with him, “How do you know such a skill?”

“I have studied and practiced magic for decades, my friend. My first teacher was a Shadowbinder from Asshai and she had much to teach me.”

Brynden does not know if he should trust this man, but it would be a useful skill to have. 

“What else can you teach me that would be helpful?”

“To see through trees is another gift. A skill that I do not know. It is an ancient magic and few could teach you that skill.”

Brynden wonders how he knew about his dreams about the weirwoods and the feeling that someone was watching him. 

“Do not worry someday you will learn, but I will not teach you.”

Brynden starts meeting with the mage on a weekly basis to learn all the man could teach him


	10. Chapter 10

195 A.C.

Sheira comes to the Master of the Whisperers’ rooms in the night . It is said he does not need guards because he has spells that protect his rooms. Hooded in black robes, she opens the door and enters the room unafraid. Her eye is black and her body bruised.   
She has come here because she is safe and she wants to rest.

Gingerly, she takes off her cloak and lays down in his bed, where she falls asleep,

When he finds her there, Brynden thinks about why she is there and that he should wake her and tell her to go back to her rooms. However, it is Shiera and he has missed the feel of her body against his, in sleep. There is a soft ache, as he lays down beside her. He pulls her to him and sleeps curled up with her. In the dawn, he kisses her and he brushes the hair from her eyes. He smiles, “You came back.”

“I always do.”

In the growing light, he sees the bruises for what they are, not shadows, but injury.

“What happened?”

“I made him angry. He was sick of me talking to other men. You know how I can be..”

“Aegor hurt you..”

He is looking at her face and her shoulders, assessing the damage. He wraps his arms around her and she can feel the anger in his veins, in his blood. There is rage, and every time he breathes, it builds. 

She tries to soothe him.. “I am fine now. I am safe now. I am here.”

“Who is he to put his hands on the King’s sister?” He says it and the threat is there, sharp. 

Aegor is taller, stronger, brutish compared to Brynden and his thin catlike grace. Often as Sheira would lay with him, together in his bed, Aegor would tell her that he would like to snap his half brother in two. If given the chance, he would hurt him. She never completely knew if Aegor should be so confidant that he would be the one to win a fight against Brynden, but she never wanted to see it. She never wanted Brynden in danger. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. 

“He is the King’s brother.” She says laughing.

He kisses her and smiles. “I am glad you came, Sheira.” 

“Now, that I am here, I will never leave.” 

She kisses him. It is a kiss of longing and love.   
He wants to ask if she will marry him, but instead he allows himself just to be content with her here. 

“I love you, Brynden.”   
“I love you, Sheira.”


	11. Chapter 11

195 A.C.

Daemon and Brynden have not seen each other in several months. Brynden has been busy as the Master of Whisperers. There has been some unrest. He has been tracing it. It all leads back to Daemon and Aegor. There is talk that Daemon is winning over lords to help him overthrow Daeron and become the King.

Daemon has been spending much of his time with Aegor and Aegor has threatened to kill Brynden when sees him again. Since Sheira has come back to Brynden, Aegor’s anger has been solely directed at Brynden.

However, Daemon has reached out to Brynden, invited him to his keep to eat dinner and talk. Daemon tells him that he will wed his daughter Calla to Aegor on the last night of the year. He would like him to come to the wedding. After all, Calla is his first daughter.

Brynden is upset. Calla only just turned 11 and Aegor is 23. Aegor is known to be violent and brutish. He has heard what he has done to some of the whores that have crossed him. There was a whore in Flea Bottom who he knocked all her teeth out because she did not fill his cup fast enough. The whore had silver golden hair and blue eyes. Just like Sheira Just like Calla. 

“Aegor is a brute. Everyone in the court knows that he hurt Shiera and she is a grown woman. What will he do to a child?”

“Calla won't anger him like Shiera does. She doesn't have a mean bone. She is not so defiant.”

“She is eleven, still a child.”  
“I know but she has just flowered. Brynden, there are younger brides..”  
“I cannot think of any, except those married in the cradle.”   
“He will not bed her, until she gets a bit older.”   
“Then, why marry her until she does?”  
“You don't understand, Brynden. Aegor is demanding this and it would look good for one of us to stand with him. You wouldn’t understand. You are Daeron's man.”

“Aye, but I am your brother. Don't listen to Aegor. He is all rage and bitterness. Remember you are the one who named him Bittersteel. Daeron has given you all you need, all you have. He even let you take a name. House Blackfyre is proof that Daeron cares for you. Daeron has your best interest.” 

Daemon laughs and looks in his glass. Brynden knows what they say. There are many lords that would prefer to see Daemon sit on the throne, but they do not know that Daemon is a man who can be swayed and manipulated, like their father. Daemon is a true knight and believes in chivalry, but he has been told when his father was young, he also did. All he wants to do is convince his brother to not listen to those who would pull the Seven Kingdoms into a civil war.   
“You are the right hand.” Brynden says.  
“And you are the left,” Daemon answers

“The King would forgive you, regardless.”

“I have just as much right to the throne as he.. Perhaps more.”

“Treasonous words.. “

“Perhaps... I have the blood of Aegon III and Viserys I. I have Blackfyre. I have nine children. I have the love of the people.”

“Some of the people…”

“Do I have your love, brother?”

“Daemon, you know that I love you.”

“Do I have your support?” 

Brynden smiled and barely flinched. “I am Daeron’s man. I stand by the King in all things.”  
It is the last time he speaks with Daemon. He remembers it always.


	12. Chapter 12

196 A.C.

At first, Brynden was lost in dreams, in memories, scenes of thousands of ravens flying over a field of dying men. It was as if it was a cloud of ravens, or as if one of the gods had thrown a handful of dust and once they left its hand, they flew. He could hear their caws, talking and replying to each other, as they settled on the ground.

He was on the ground among the dead and he heard a voice, “You have lost an eye Brynden Rivers.” 

But there was another voice, a stronger voice saying, “So that now you might see clearly.”

There was a small boy with a shaved head and a big hat next to the tallest man he had ever seen, a girl that looked like Queen Naerys with three baby dragons in her lap, Daemon proudly showing him his twin sons after they were first born, a boy with dark curls and a large white wolf dying in snow turning red from his blood, and there was the biggest army he had ever seen of the dead coming to wipe out the living. At this vision of the army, Brynden tried to force himself to wake, but they had been giving milk of the poppy. So, he continued in his dreams..

There were the seven banners of House Targaryen and seven banners of House Blackfyre, blowing sharply in the breeze. The winds were strong and the cloth sounded like it was being slapped by the wind. One by one the Blackfyre sigils broke free and floated onto the blood soaked ground, until the dragons were lost in the blood. However, even in the strong wind, six of the Targaryen banners remained. There was the throne room in the Red Keep, a burnt shell. However, he heard the voice, the strong voice, the voice he had heard in his dreams, “If Blackfyre wins, the dead will win. Only Targaryens will save humanity.”

Brynden had heard this voice in his dreams in the months before Redgrass Field. It had haunted him. He had consulted with Leto and the other wise men, but none could give him an answer of whose voice was speaking to him. However, Brynden felt he should trust the voice and its warning. If Blackfyre won, all would be lost. The only war that mattered would be lost. 

Brynden Rivers wakes to Sheira in his rooms. He has been sleeping and his mouth feels incredibly dry, like the sands of Dorne. He can only see out of one eye because they have bandaged his head and other eye. From the way his head feels, he knows they must have been giving him milk of poppy and dreamwine.

He had memories of dying and a terrible pain. Aegor had taken up Daemon’s sword, Blackfyre, and he had Dark Sister, brother and sister sword against each other. Aegor was all ferocity and rage and because of that, so much stronger than Brynden. He was yelling, “You killed him and his sons. You are a Kinslayer and a Kingslayer. You are cursed for all time. They will call you Bloodraven.”

Brynden met Blackfyre with Dark Sister, parrying the blows, but he did not know how long he could because he was exhausted. 

“It is true. I am a Kinslayer but Daemon was never my King. My King sits on the Iron Throne and his sons have beaten you. Give up, Bittersteel.”

“Never, Bloodraven.”

Brynden was going to say something to congratulate his brother on actually saying something witty, but he missed blocking Bittersteel and fell to the ground with incredible pain. Hugh, his squire must have fought Bittersteel and kept him from killing him. Or perhaps, it was Baelor and his troops that had stopped Aegor from killing him. He could not remember. All he could remember was pain.

 

When he opened his eye, he saw Sheira, gorgeous in a soft lavender dress in the Dornish style. Her face lightened up and she saw him. Squeezing his hand, she spoke, “Brynden, my love…”

 

Sheira helped him drink a glass of water by his bed. She was so beautiful and he was so glad that he could see her because on Redgrass Field, he was certain he would never lay eyes on her again. 

Brynden spoke, “Sheira, I killed him. I killed Daeron.”

“No, you did not. You cannot know that you killed him. It could have been any of the arrows.”

 

She was trying to comfort him. Biting her lip, she tried to smile at him, but she had been crying. Somehow, even with red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks, she was as pretty as anything he had ever seen. The fact she was here with him, a scrawny albino man, given to visions and voices, surely destined for madness, was a blessing and he would never understand how he deserved it. Now, he was a kinslayer. Now, he was cursed. Sheira should hate him. Sheira should abandon him and find a man worthy of her incredible beauty and intelligence. 

Brynden spoke, trying to get her to see the depths of what he had done. “I killed our brother. I killed the right arm of House Targaryen. Then, I killed his sons, twelve year old boys. The boys I held when they were little. Aegon and Aemon.” 

“My love.. Daemon was no longer the right arm of House Targaryen. He was a traitor. What do you think Daemon would have done to Daeron’s sons and grandsons if he had won? He would have killed Daeron’s sons and grandsons It is war.”

“But, he was family. He was the brother I loved.”

“Perhaps.. but perhaps you always loved the King. Our brother, Daeron, who loved you and has given you position at Court and has treated you with respect and honor. Our brother, Daeron, who raised us among his children and has given us all we need. His mother, Queen Naerys, dutiful and loving, who cared for you when you were sick and would hold you like you were her own son. Perhaps, you just never realized how much you love the King because he does not remind us of how we owe him anything. Daeron the Good is just that, a good man who is King. He wants the best for us.”

Brynden looked at her. He wished he had the strength to argue with her. However, there was a truth behind it. Daeron had always had a place for him at the head table and he had never treated him as anything other than his brother. 

Brynden had remembered, even as a small boy that Naerys had not truly been his mother. However, she had treated him like her son and when it was just Naerys and Brynden, she would sometimes let him call her mother. Somehow, Daeron had known Brynden’s child heart and he had been understanding and gentle. 

“I killed my family. I could have saved them. Perhaps, Aegor should have killed me.”

He wondered if that was true. Since the dreams of the army of the dead had started a few months ago, he had known he would end House Blackfyre so humanity could survive the terrible days ahead. 

Sheira kissed his face. “But, you are my family and my heart. I could not face all the days left in my life without you.” 

He touched his bandaged face, “My eye?”

“It is gone, my love. Bittersteel took it. But you, Bloodraven, only need one and you can see ten times more what another man can only see with two.” 

Sheira climbed onto his bed with him, touching him. “Let me show you a few things that only Bloodraven can see.”

“Bloodraven.. Is that what they are calling me?”

“Only your enemies. Every story needs a villain and you have many enemies as the Master of Whisperers. I like it. Bloodraven.. It makes you sound dangerous. Let me soothe your troubled mind.”

He felt her hands underneath the blankets, running down his chest. Brynden was exhausted and wanted to go back to sleep, but was afraid of what dreams he might have. He put his arm around her, “Just lay here with me for awhile, Sheira.”

Brynden felt her look at him, questioning but he felt her settle gently on his chest. Quietly she spoke, “I could not face all the days of my life without you, my love.”

Bloodraven spoke, running his fingers through her silver gold hair. He had wanted to say many things, but instead, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep beside the woman he loved.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to finish some of my unfinished works and this was the most overdue story to complete. I decided to wrap it up, but in no way do i think their story is complete. I may write more but I have to finish some of my projects.. I hope you enjoyed it..

233 AC

 

He is being held in the black cells. He does not know how long he has been held there, not too long, but still long enough. Brynden has lost track of time in the dark. He has been dreaming of thousands of ravens and a an ancient weirwood tree surrounded by snow and ice. He is certain that the injury in his arm is infected and he is feverish. Perhaps, little Egg will leave him down here to die. Perhaps, the Egg has finally cracked and there is a Dragon inside. 

When the soldiers come and drag him up from the straw, he wonders if he is being taken to the headsman’s block. He had been dreaming of Sheira, talking to her. She was all in silver, laughing and teasing him. Dragged out in the light, his eyes hurt, burning in the bright. Unsteady and blinded, the soldiers carried him almost the whole way, until he was dropped unceremoniously on a cot.

Sheira was there. She took his hand and kissed it. “Brynden, I was so worried for you. I am so glad you are here. I will talk to King Aegon. I will plead with him.”

Egg is King. Brynden feels the pleasure at knowing his dreams were right. All will be right in the end. The Targaryens will be able to stop the Others. In the end. 

“We need to get you washed and fed. How is your shoulder?” Sheira says, her voice is scratchy and different. 

 

This is last time he asks her, “Marry me.. Aegon would let us have one night together as husband and wife.”

“No,” she says. 

He wonders if she still thinks this is a game. He knows it isn't. Brynden hears a familiar male voice and Sheira disappears.

“Uncle ..Shiera is dead. She has been gone a long time.”

It was Aemon, Maekar’s fourth son, the bookish one. Yet, he did not remind him of Aerys, his brother’s bookish boy. Aemon was large, like Baelor had been or Maekar, yet they had sent him to Oldtown. They had sent him because there had been so many heirs. Strange that Maekar’s one boy, big enough to be a renown warrior, was sent to the Citadel. 

“Aemon.. What has happened?” 

“We are being sent to the Wall, you for treachery and violating a peace treaty.”

“Good. Let the people see Aegon as determined and strong.” 

“I will go to the Wall with you Uncle. They need a Maester and there are too many of us Targaryens in the Capitol. I would rather be necessary and needed.” 

The boy was no longer a boy. He was a man and yet still he grieved the loss of that girl. Aemon should have married her, run away with her. At that moment in the torchlight as he helped his Uncle, Brynden realized that Aemon looked the most like his namesake, Aemon the Dragonknight. For a moment, he remembered his Uncle Aemon fondly.

“I was dreaming of Sheira. But I think we have a different future ahead of us.. One away from King’s Landing, but perhaps, more important..”

Aemon smiled at his Uncle, not understanding, but always reassuring. Brynden had always wondered if Aerys’s dreams were wrong and Aegon should have been sent to the Citadel, instead of Aemon. Now, he knew that Aemon would be their voice in the darkest times ahead. He was reassurance and a witness for those who would need a kind voice and wisdom. 

Brynden closed his eyes and saw her, Sheira, smiling and sparkling. He would go to her one day and see her smile, but his journey would not end at the Wall. This was just the beginning.


End file.
